《Mephissa: Battleground of the Gods》 Chapter 1: Interrupting Tranquility Bayaal sat on the edge of the dock in Clear Well. The morning was bright and crisp. The sea air felt rough and uncaring against his legs as they sat floating in the water. He watched as a small carp swam up to his toes, filled with a mix of curiosity and hunger. Bayaal watched as fishermen pulled long nets from the water. A series of seven piers came to life abruptly and suddenly on the beaches of Clear Well. Each pier, lined with fishing nets that are pulled out with the waves each night and collected in the morning. Bayaal watched as the fisherman pulled their bounties from the net. A healthy mix of small salmon, carp, and trout.Nothing impressive mind you, fishermen were not allowed to leave the piers to cast their nets, they could collect only as far as the water would carry their anchors. Bayaal had heard tales from the elders about times when fishermen would leave the beaches in small fishing boats; the kind that are now only permitted on the various inland waterways of Mephissa. It has been well 600 winters since sailing on the ocean had been universally outlawed in Mephissa. The kingdoms in Mephissa may have their differences, but all could agree; all who mounted the ocean water in the fever of glory or in the visages of starvation; never returned. A sudden crash caught Bayaal¡¯s attention. From his own pier Bayaal could see a fisherman struggling to control a rather large catch, sometimes the earth goddess could be generous. Sometimes larger catch would find its way into the fishermen''s nets. Bayaal watched as the large carp fought against the fisherman''s waning grasp. The fisherman¡¯s colleagues made no move to help the struggling man. Instead they were all bent over with laughter. It was apparent they were not laughing at him, but laughing at a situation they had all found themselves in before. It was a scene that brought a smile to Bayaal¡¯s face. The young man of twenty winters, sat staring at the smile that had crossed his own face, from watching the fisherman, in the calm reflection of the ocean. He admired the features he had come to appreciate from his parents. When Bayaal was younger, he was teased for having ginger hair like his father. His father would always tell him; ¡°Bay (his fathers own personal nickname for Bayaal), those kids don¡¯t know what they''re saying. Faynal the mother goddess had the brightest, most beautiful ginger hair, almost as good as yours and mine. If they want to mock you, they¡¯re mocking the goddess!¡± Bayaal, loved when his father would call him ¡°Bay.¡± It was like a small secret they kept between themselves. When his father would call him Bay, it was always followed by a piece of life advice Bay¡¯s mother would never approve of. But that was okay, because it was their secret. And now that his father had returned to the mother goddess two winters ago, the small secrets they shared all of Bayaal¡¯s life meant even more. They were the small pieces of his father that were always with him. Bayaal couldn¡¯t help but note his striking blue eyes that were a direct copy of his mothers. His mother always joked that their eyes were icy because they were a cold hearted bunch. But Bayaal knew this wasn¡¯t the truth. His mother was the kindest person he knew. His mother, Sayth, made sure Bayaal knew how much he was loved, even more since his father¡¯s passing. Once, when Bayaal was younger, he had climbed to the top of the sacred tree of life in his village and his mother had been wrought with worry. This was the tallest tree, in the center of the village. This tree had provided fruit to Bayaal¡¯s ancestors when their small village was just a small tribe dropping seeds in the dirt, just to see what would happen. The tree of life represented the villagers agreement with the mother goddess. Faynal provided this tree for the villagers to eat. To sustain themselves, to prosper even. In return, Faynal just asks that the villagers take care of, cherish, and venerate this sacred tree. And they had done just that. Every winter solstice the villagers gather around their sacred tree. They set up celebrations and games to celebrate the end of the winter. They burned incense and gave thanks to Faynel with prayers and songs. Every day forward was longer, more full of life. A life the villagers understood was sacred. During the summer solstice, the villagers celebrated again. They gave thanks to their mother goddess. Thanks for allowing them to sustain themselves for another year. By all accounts, Faynal, the god of the realm in which Clear Well sat, was merciful and caring. Bayaal noticed that the carp that had been examining his feet curiously, lazily swam off in search of an easy meal. With that thought, Bayaal realized he was hungry himself. The sun had risen to the position that signaled to the fishermen and farmers that it was mid morning. Bayaal had spent well over two hours watching the fishermen enjoy themselves on the docks, and lost in his own thoughts. With one final peak at himself in the water, Bayaal swung his feet back onto the dock and slowly righted himself. He stretched purposefully, relishing every pop that sprung forth from his young joints. Bayaal made a mental note to himself to ask the medicine woman Tayna for something for his shoulder. With one last gentle sigh, Bayaal started off down the pier back towards the beach. He continued to walk the expanse of the pier as a new commotion drew his attention to a pier further down. A fisherman had fallen off the pier. This in and of itself isn¡¯t dangerous to the fisherman. Regardless, his friends, no longer laughing, scrambled to heft him out of the water. With one vigorous tug, the fisherman came flying out of the water, crashing into his friends. He began to laugh nervously, attempting to mask the sudden anxiety that had just filled the air. The fishermen knew they had nothing to fear close to the shore, but this snapshot of logic did nothing to quell the tales of terror that had been ingrained in every Mephissian for the last 600 winters at bedtime. The fishermen knew there was nothing to fear, but no man wanted to gamble with their life to find the point of no return. So the fishermen brushed themselves off, visibly shaken, but still managing to smile and laugh. Bayaal continued down the path leading from the beach to the village. He passed the small fisherman''s shack on his right. Nothing but a small shelter to hold the fishermen¡¯s equipment. A small timber building, it had seen more winters than any in the village. Its sea salt stained exterior had become a familiar comfort in their village. For the villagers, it represented yet another connection to their mother goddess. On his left, Bayaal passed the timber cottages of the fishermen. From inside Bayaal smelled the sweet aroma of tea root mixed with Tinzle flower. A short and slender flower purple leaves, it¡¯s said the mixture helps fishermen fight the cold and salt of the ocean, its aroma and vigor keeping the salty moisture out of the lungs of the fishermen. Sometimes though, tea isn¡¯t enough. Bayaal had seen his fair share of fishermen pass before their time. Usually in bed, surrounded by family. But younger than Faynal intended. That was how life worked in Clear Well, you did your part for the village. If you needed something, the village provided it. If the village needs something, you provide it. It was that thought that was racing through Bayaal¡¯s head as he stopped in front of the village storehouse to help old man Eaton move the rest of the grain from the fields into the insulated stone structure. Old man Eaton greeted Bayaal in thunderous voice filled with as much love as it was reverberation: ¡°Well now, is brooding over the water done for the day already? I had you scheduled for a few more hours at least.¡± A sly smile crossed the old man''s lips. From anyone else, Bayaal would have found this insulting, but not Eaton. The old man, adorned in his usual tunic and rope belt, had been the one who initially suggested Bayaal may find peace he was seeking on the pier when his father had passed. And by Faynal, he was right. Since that day, it has been a shared secret between them. Bynaal quickly responded to the old man, ¡°Ah I figured I¡¯d come give you a hand before your back gave out again. Hate to think of the elders replacing you with someone younger.¡± A wide grin spread across Bayaal¡¯s face before he could finish making his comment. He and Eaton both knew that no one in the village could heft bags of grain and flour like Eaton. Though his long hair was now white, pulled back and braided to match the braid in his equally white beard, he moved with the quickness and strength of someone a third his age. Bayaal watched as he tossed two sacks at a time into the large stone walled storehouse. Without missing a beat Eaton looked back at him and with playful urgency asked: ¡°Planning to help anytime soon?¡± ¡°Right behind ya¡± Bayaal returned with his own playful urgency. For the rest of the morning this is where Bayaal was, helping an old friend with back breaking labor. It felt good to him. Unbothered by straw dust and As he was standing next to Eaton, working the morning away, he realized something. He was no longer looking up to Old Man Eaton as he had done his whole life. Now, the mountain of a man did not seem like a mountain. Instead, Bayaal stood eye to eye with him. This realization summoned mixed emotions in Bayaal. The realization that he was becoming someone, not someone he didn¡¯t like, just someone different from whom he had been his whole life. Old Man Eatons gentle cough pulled him out of his thoughts. ¡°Have you heard the tale of Enwar the Unlucky?¡± He asked Bayaal. ¡°I don¡¯t think I have.¡± Bayaal replied. ¡°But I have a feeling I¡¯m about to become familiar with it.¡± The old man furrowed his brow but did little to hide the small smirk betraying his imposed anger. ¡°Ah, well allow an old man his indulgences in his final days¡± Eaton replied, doing his best to imitate a frail dying man. Both men stopped and laughed for a moment. Bayaal did his best to savor this moment. The elders taught respect for those who have come before and respect for the knowledge they share. The old man, now seated on a wooden crate shaded form the sun, gestured for Bayaal to join him. ¡°Come..come.¡± he lazily sang to Bayaal as he patted the crate beside him. ¡°Oh well if it comes with a break then I¡¯m in¡± Bayaal replied as he dropped his frame on the wooden crate beside the old man. ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡± Bayaal beckoned with playful annoyance. Eaton leaned back on his crate, resting his back on the stone of the storehouse. He closed his eyes and for a moment, said nothing. Then, in a soft singsong voice, he started; ¡°Enwar was a warrior some 400 winters ago. He was beloved in his village. He had a reputation of being a great warrior and a kind soul. But, he was glory hungry, as many young men are. One day Enwar comes to the middle of his village to find a messenger from Emberfell.¡± Bayaal, having taken an interest in the story clarified, ¡°Emberfell? Like up north, spooky mountains Emberfell?¡± Eaton laughed with booming reverberation. ¡°The one and only.¡± He replied in between small bouts of laughter. ¡°Anyway, as I was saying. Emberfell sent a messenger requesting the service of a brave warrior. Enwar seeing images of glory in his head bravely volunteered, without reading the contract of course. Enwar set off. And for 5 winters no one knew what had become of him. Then, wouldn¡¯t you know it, an ambassador comes from Emberfell on realm business and someone asked him if he knew of the warrior Enwar.¡± Bayaal turned his head to Eaton and asked, ¡°I¡¯m assuming he was used as front line cannon fodder for Emberfell?¡± Eaton laughed, not as reverberating or jovial though. ¡°No no. When pressed, the traveler asked if they meant ¡°Enwar the Unlucky.¡± Turns out the poor bastard had signed a contract to be the king''s personal latrine cleaner. Moral of the story being, don¡¯t step in shit because you want better shoes!¡± Both men lost themselves in laughter at the conclusion of Eaton¡¯s story. And that was where Old Man Eaton and Bayaal spent the rest of the morning. Working silently but enjoying each other''s company. Hours later, when the sun had just crested below its mid day gaze, Bayaal suddenly found his attention drawn away from the storehouse. The villager manning the watchtower north of town found reason to sound his warning call. The metallic clang - clang - clang pulled every villager away from their task. The farmers in the field suddenly found themselves completely upright and stiff. The fisherman had dropped their nets back in the water, a bountiful catch of different marine life swimming away in the process. Bayaal and Eaton were no exception. For several moments, both men stood in silence at the opening of the storehouse. Their eyes were fixed north but could find no reason for the watchman''s alarm. Bayaal mentally noted the shift in the old man¡¯s posture. He was no longer slumped over holding his back from the morning labor. Eaton no longer reminded Bayaal of an old man. His eyes had narrowed with a focus that tried its best to hide the rising anxiety that was weighing heavy on every villager of Clear Well. Suddenly, Bayaal noted movement to his right. The movement Bayaal had noticed was two of the village elders exiting the House of Cardall, drawn by the same anxiety that currently plagued the village. Across from the storehouse sat the House of Cadrall. This longhouse was once the home of Cadrall, the first village leader, and has been standing for some 800 winters. Now, it was the only governmental building in Clear Well. The elders conducted daily meetings in this building, but it was also used as diplomatic housing when ¡°Specfield¡± ambassadors came to Clear Well, not that they ever did. Its rectangular walls were only rivaled in size by the storehouse that held enough grain and flower to feed an entire village. The wooden walls had long since been reinforced with stone and plaster. The outside adorned in various tapestries and symbols becking Faynal for the protection of their most sacred building. The thatched roof sloped gently upwards until meeting in the middle, the sun gleaming off the golden tendrils of plant matter protruding from the roof. Then, as sudden as the ringing had started, it stopped. Silence fell over the villagers. Men, women, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters all held their collective breaths. Suddenly, a distinct clang - clang from the same northern watchtower. This was the all clear signal. The watchman had deemed that whatever was coming down the path into the village was not a threat, yet. Bayaal turned to speak to Eaton, but the old man shushed him. Bayaal understood what this meant - ¡°We¡¯ll talk later.¡± As the moments went by, Bayaal felt the ground start to shake. Soon, he saw slight wisps of what looked like dark smoke rising from the treeline. But the smoke was moving inhumanly fast. Bayaal doubted one of the cart horses would be able to keep up with whatever beast this was. Suddenly, the source of smoke came into view on the path. At first, Bayaal had no idea what he was looking at. It reminded him of a horse carriage someone may use in the kingdom but it was four times the size and there were no horses. This ¡°carriage¡± was completely made of metal! Bayaal noticed four large metallic wheels on either side of the metallic carriage. On top of those sat two compartments. It looked as though one was meant for some kind of crew and the other for passengers. The crew compartment was complete with a glass window, which Bayaal assumed a driver used to see. He noted that as the metallic carriage sped up, a large metallic tube protruding from the top of the carriage intensified its already impressive bloom of black smoke. Then, as the carriage approached the clearing of their village, it started to slow down. Its speed continually decreased as it approached the northern entrance to the village. As it came to a stop outside of the northern entrance, Bayaal noticed two things. The first being the seven heavy ballista attached to the perimeter of the metallic carriage. Each was manned by a soldier in plain blue battle garments. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The second thing Bayaal noticed was the green and blue flag that flowed from every corner of the metallic carriage. One thing was suddenly clear, whatever this thing was, it was here on Specfield business. The metallic carriage whistled. The piercing screech was enough to jumpstart movement in the villagers of Clear Well. Mothers and fathers suddenly ushered their children inside. Latching every available bolt in every cottage. The fishermen and farmers quickly and quietly returned to their business. No laughter to be heard. Bayaal and Eaton met the eyes of one another. They exchanged a brief look that signaled to each man to breath, but be watchful. As the men continued staring, Bayaal was the first to speak. ¡°What is that thing?¡± Bayaal asked in a tone that only slightly betrayed his own anxiety. Eaton pondered this question for a moment. Then, after a brief pause he spoke. ¡°Specfield has either stepped up their magic to compete with Daufim Hill or stepped up their engineering game to compete with Emberfell. Neither is good, but neither is particularly bad¡­.yet.¡± Bayaal thought this over for a moment. As he did he noticed the two elders from the House of Cadrall were no longer standing in its entryway. Bayaal watched as the man and woman slowly walked towards the northern entrance to welcome the visitors. From his position Bayaal could see the backs of the elders. He noticed the tension each carried. It had been so long since political violence had reached the small village of Clear Well. Most elders were only children when Specfield last marched on Clear Well. But Bayaal knew the memory stayed with them. Everyone in the village knew. A collective trauma is rarely forgotten. Suddenly, from his own cottage on the northwestern side of the village center, Bayaal watched as his mother joined the elders in their advance towards the metallic beast. She wore the same tunic and robe of her companions. Her chestnut hair, speckled with streaks of gray, was neatly pinned to the back of her head with a small broach made of deer bone. Bayaal knew it was deer bone because he had made it for her himself, a small memento from his first hunt with his father. Then, something else caught Bayaal¡¯s eye. At his mother''s waist, he noted her battle ax. An audible gasp left Bayaal. ¡°Eaton, she has her ax.¡± The words felt like stomach acid in Bayaal¡¯s mouth. ¡°Eaton, in my twenty winters, she¡¯s never so much as taken that sword off the wall. What¡¯s going on?¡± Bayaal felt his voice raise as posed the last question to his companion. The old man did his best to try to calm the anxiety in the young man¡¯s voice. ¡°Aye, she¡¯s and elder now. For ya ma, that¡¯s part of the dress.¡± Bayaal understood and knew the old man was right. But the thought of his mothers sword leaving its place above the mantle only left him with more thoughts and questions. He made a mental note to himself to ask his mother when all this was over but did not press the matter further. Bayaal watched as the village elders approached the northern entrance of the village, stopping inside the gap in the wooden fence that was used as an entryway for their community. The elders were now only a stone¡¯s throw from the metallic carriage. The ballistas atop the carriage made no attempt to move during the entire approach. Each man did however take this time to check each piece of machinery was loaded for bear. Suddenly, the second carriage compartment opened. From his position, Bayaal could not see who or what had exited the metallic carriage. His view was blocked by the elders. He watched as his mother and her companions each shook hands with the mysterious stranger. Bayaal then watched as the elders invited the stranger into the House of Cadrall with a wave of a hand. He and Eaton made no attempt to hide their gaze as they watched the elders walk towards the House of Cardall followed closely behind by a Specfield diplomat. The diplomat wore only a fine sky blue robe. The neck of the diplomat was adorned with a necklace of small black beads. Bayaal thought for a moment, but realized he did not recognize the stones. They were round, but no bigger than the tip of his own thumb. There seemed to be a dozen strung at even intervals across a silver chain. While Bayaal sat lost in his own thoughts, Eaton was the first to Speak. ¡°This oughta be interesting, aye lad?¡± Eaton spoke plainly and matter of factly. There was no force in his once booming voice. Bayaal watched as the elders, his mother, and the Specfield diplomat disappeared into the house of Cadrall. Suddenly, Bayaal felt a small twinge in his chest. Then, nothing. It was as if all of the air had been stolen from his lungs. It was as if Draedad himself had reached into his chest and lit a fire, greedily stealing the oxygen his lungs were craving. As the throngs of black started to speckle his vision, he felt a familiar hand on his back. A warm beacon of sanity in the sea of panic he was feeling. ¡°Breathe lad, it¡¯ll be okay¡± Eaton spoke in a soothing voice. Bayaal steadied himself for a moment. He willed himself to take a small breath. His lungs happily welcomed the relief. With his vision somewhat restored, he dared take a second breath. After a few moments he felt the panic leave him. Since his fathers death, Bayaal had become prone to what Tayna calls ¡°fits of panic.¡± He was grateful his friend had been here. With his feet once again beneath him, Bayaal spoke to the old man once again, ¡°Thank you my friend, I - Eaton raised his hand before Bayaal could finish, ¡°Ah don¡¯t go getting soft on me now. There''s still more grain to throw. Besides I think your Ma and the elders may be in there for a while, they just lit the hearth.¡± With the last observation, Eaton motioned for Bayaal to look towards the now smoking chimney of the longhouse. ¡°Now I¡¯m going to take a look at this great beast that sits at the edge of our village.¡± Bayaal and Eaton made their way across the village center at a brisk pace. They both stopped where the elders had before them, between the fence posts. As they approached, they observed what appeared to be a battalion of crewmen at work. Both men shared a look of confusion, it was hard to know what these men were doing when they had no idea what they were looking at. Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice spoke to them in a surprisingly cherry tone, ¡°Good afternoon gentlemen! Can I help you?¡± Suddenly Bayaal spotted one of the crew members walking towards himself and Eaton. He wore a pair of blue overalls and a white shirt, the same uniform shared by the remainder of the crew. But this man wore a matching brimmed hat, made from the same material as his overalls. He was a pale man, but years of obvious manual labor had left him the size of a warrior. As he approached he extended his hand, ¡°Names Gregory, I¡¯m the crew chief.¡± Gregory noticed the mens obvious astonishment at the mysterious contraption. He turned to the men with a grin. ¡°Like it?¡± He asked in an excited tone. Bayaal unintentionally returned the man¡¯s excited energy, ¡°What is it Gregory? Is it magic?¡± ¡°No, no magic here, unless you count the engineers, but they just use flame runes to heat the furnace¡± Gregory explained expecting the men to understand. Eaton spoke next, ¡°So it''s a big metal carriage, is that what I''m understanding?¡± Eaton asked in his now returned reverberating voice. ¡°You boys wanna see inside the engine room?¡± Gregory asked with an eyebrow raised. Bayaal and Eaton shared a look between them, it screamed ¡°Don¡¯t tell your mother.¡± As Bayaal and Eaton followed their new companion to the rear of the carriage they observed various teams at work. A team of three engineers were attending to the wheels of the carriage. Using small tools to make certain various parts were tightened and slathered with some kind of black goo. A second team could be observed testing the integrity of the chimney atop the carriage, ensuring there are no blockages. ¡°What are they cleaning at the top of the chimney?¡± Bayaal asked as they approached the rear of the carriage. Gregory stopped to answer before proceeding. ¡°That tube is what vents the furnace below. They need to clean it everytime we stop to make sure there are no blockages. It would be lights out for everyone in the immediate area if a blockage were to spark.¡± ¡°What powers it?¡± Bayaal asked matter of factly. ¡°Coal!¡± Gregory exclaimed. His grin now widening. ¡°This baby runs on steam, powered by coal.¡± Bayaal was suddenly reminded of a time when he was young. He had just seen his eighth winter. His parents had brought him to visit Specfield. It was the first time he had ever left the village of Clear Well. He remembered the smells, the people, all the noise, it was wonderful. But what he remembered most was the demonstration that had happened in the city center. The Specfield engineers were showcasing a new invention. Being young at the time, Bayaal had no idea what he was looking at. All he remembered from the demonstration was the large metallic beast in the square and his mother and father each grabbing one of his hands to comfort him. But now, Bayaal knew what the engineers were demonstrating, an earlier version of Gregory''s own metallic carriage. ¡°I¡¯ve seen something like this before, '''' Bayaal said matter of factly. ¡°Really? Where?¡± His companions both asked in unison. ¡°When I was younger. Mother and father took me on a trip with them to Specfield. The engineers were doing a demonstration in the town center. I didn¡¯t know what it was at the time, but I think it might have been this.¡± Bayaal finished and looked at his new companion. Gregory furrowed his brows for a moment. He closed his eyes, as to beckon a lost memory forward in his mind. Then, his smile returned. ¡°Would this have been ten winters ago?¡± He asked, a sense of urgency in his voice. ¡°Wait, yes, how¡¯d you know that?¡± Bayaal asked, confused. ¡°Well what a small small realm!¡± Gregory exclaimed excitedly. ¡°It just so happens that about ten winters ago, I debuted the first model of this beauty. Yep, she moved at a snail''s pace. And didn¡¯t properly vent, but she inspired what you have in front of you today.¡± Gregory was beaming with pride. ¡°Now, let''s see the guts and glory.¡± With that last word, Gregory resumed his determined pace towards the rear of the carriage. ¡°It really is a small world,¡± Bayaal thought to himself. Bayaal and Eaton followed Gregory. Matching his brisk pace. They now found themselves positioned behind Gregory, Staring into a compartment that ran the entirety of the carriage. The ceiling of the compartment was just short enough to require the men to duck before entering. Bayaal could reach out and touch both sides of the compartment without extending his arms. He and Eaton followed Gregory to the bowels of the metallic beast. As the group approached the center of the beast where the engine was located, Bayaal started to notice the increase in pipes of various sizes and lengths running from end to end on the ceiling of the compartment. It became necessary, more than once, to crouch down even further in the already cramped and claustrophobic space. Suddenly, the small narrow passage opened into a wider work space, with the narrow passageway continuing further ahead. The compartment was dark and cramped. Inside there were three men going about their duties. Bayaal noticed various pipes and valves protruding from the behemoth machine. Surrounding the engine sat piles upon biles of coal. The dust created from the shifting of the coarse mineral filled Bayaals lungs. Bayaal watched two of the workmen, their uniform overalls unbuttoned and hanging at their waist, resume shoveling coal into the monster engine. He watched as sweat began to form on the foreheads of each man. The rhythm the men created was hypnotic. Toss - toss - scrape - scrape. Toss - toss - scrape - scrape. ¡°Ready for the show?¡± Gregory asked excitedly, a small gleam of insanity present in the question. ¡°Sho-¡± Before Eaton could finish his question, shouting filled the compartment, ¡°Clear!¡± Bayaal watched as the third engineer walked over to the engine. For the first time, Bayaal noticed the strange symbol carved into the center of the door, of the coal compartment of the engine. It was a small circle, surrounded with protruding lines, it reminded Bayaal of a crude drawing of the sun, the difference being the large diagonal line running through the center. The third engineer stopped in front of the symbol. The engineer brought his palms together in front of his face. In a low tone, he began chanting into his hands, still brought together in front of his face. Suddenly, the engineer''s hands were engulfed in a strange blue flame. The engineer gave no signal that he felt the heat. Then, with one seamless movement. He slapped one hand against the strange symbol on the door. In the next few moments, Bayaal felt the compartment he was in come alive. The air was suddenly filled with heat and steam. The innards of the strange metallic beast roared to life. It was loud, one of the loudest things Bayaal had ever heard. He watched as the engineers scrambled to turn every valve, and pull every lever in the correct order. There was no spell for this type of magic, no incantation or curse. Only the will of man. ¡°Isn¡¯t this amazing!¡± Gregory shouted towards the men. With that, Gregory beckoned Bayaal and Eaton followed him outside. Bayaal followed Gregory close, ducking when he ducked, stopping when he stopped. Behind him, Eaton did the same. Finally, they were greeted with the welcomed sensation of clean air in their lungs. After the men had excited the carriage, Gregory closed the hatch behind them. ¡°So?¡± He asked, watching the newcomers, unaccustomed to the bowels of the beast, breath deeply trying to catch their collective breaths. Bayaal thought for a moment before responding, ¡°It¡¯s beautiful. I couldn¡¯t imagine working down there all the time though.¡± ¡°Well we aren''t down there all the time. Each station is on a rotating shift. Everyone does a shift in the belly, then comes up for air.¡± Gregory noticed the looks of concern on the faces of both of his companions. ¡°Don¡¯t worry guys! It¡¯s ventilated down there!¡± Gregory did his best to put on a face that exhumed confidence. With that, all three men broke into laughter. Bayaal and Eaton bid their new companion farewell. They had enjoyed their tour of the new machine. New innovations do not happen as fast in Clear Well, nor were they quick to spread in the realm. As Bayaal and Eaton made their way back to the storehouse, Bayaal made an observation. ¡°Well Eaton, I guess you were right.¡± ¡°I mean always, but remind me what I¡¯m right about.¡± Eaton spoke in a fake bravado dropping off quickly. ¡°You said Specfield either upped their magic or engineering, I think they did both.¡± Bayaal said, awaiting his companions'' response. Eaton thought for a moment, then stopped walking just short of the storehouse. He dropped his voice, beckoning Bayaal to join in a private conversation. ¡°I think you¡¯re right about that. I don¡¯t know why, but I have a bad feeling about it.¡± ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s not just the fear of the unknown talking old man?¡± Bayaal asked playfully. The old man did not return his humor. In a hushed tone he said, ¡°Lad, I don¡¯t care what anyone calls it, that¡¯s no carriage, that¡¯s a war machine.¡± Bayaal was unsure how to respond to Eaton, the kingdoms didn¡¯t war anymore, there was no need for a war machine. ¡°Was there?¡± he thought to himself. Suddenly, Eaton righted himself. The old man stretched, cracked his back, and started towards the storehouse. ¡°I need a nap.¡± he called to Bayaal behind him. ¡°Wait, for your ma¡¯ to get done, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll have something to say when she finds out you went inside a metal beast today.¡± Bayaal watched as Eaton disappeared into the storehouse with the last word. He noticed for the first time that the sun was starting to set over Clear Well. The final rays of light were disappearing behind the mountains. All around Bayaal watched as the villagers began to light lanterns, candles, fires and lamps. Clear Well was not without light for long. Bayaal noticed one of the elders exited the house of Cardall to light the various lamps hung around the longhouse. ¡°The chimney¡¯s still burning.¡± Bayaal thought to himself. ¡°She¡¯ll be in there awhile yet,¡± he thought, wondering when his mother would be home. Suddenly, Bayaal realized something else. He was tired. The day had been long and his muscles ached. His chest burned from the panic of the day. He was unsure of many things but in this moment, he knew he only wanted the cool embrace of sleep. With one final look to the villagers around him, Bayaal crossed the village center to his cottage, disappearing into the darkness once again. Chapter 2: A Bloody Suprise Emberfell 6 Months Ago ¡°Lit...Lit¡­Lit!¡± Eugene yelled from behind the makeshift barrier erected in the small tunnel. He hunched his petite frame behind the piece of scrap metal, serving as his only protection against the explosion that was about to rock the stone walls. He had come to enjoy this part of being a miner. Always finding new veins, always on the hunt. So when the small stone wall, more than a mile underneath the ground, fell, Eugene''s heart began to race with the excitement of a modern treasure hunter discovering the biggest score of their career. The statue of stone in front of him was no coal vein. It rose from the ground, like a dark V. Each side jutting up and away from the other. From this distance, Eugene could see that the statue was dark. Darker than any vein of coal. Darker than the current shadows surrounding them so far underground. He could also see that there was something being held in between the edges of the sharp V shooting up. Eugene knew he needed to get closer, ¡°just a glimpse¡± he thought to himself. But then his training kicked in. They had just blown down a stone wall a mile underground. ¡°Gas check!¡± He shouted, still hunkered down behind the scrap metal. Eugene watched as his friend Mainin stepped forward. Clad in the same dark miner suit that Eugene himself was wearing. The difference being, Mainin had remembered to pull his gas mask up. As Eugene pulled his own mask up, he watched as Mainin retrieved the small cage behind his own piece of scrap metal. He pulled off the small covering, revealing the small bird inside, tweeting its merry song, completely unaware of its circumstances in life. He opened a small door in the front of the cage, allowing its small space to fill with the same acrid air the men needed to breathe. The men waited for a few seconds, then a few more. Very quickly a minute had passed, and the small tunnel was still full of the birds'' merry calls. Eugene rose, removed his gas mask and yelled ¡°Clear.¡± Inside, he was grateful. He found himself needing to investigate the statue further. Eugene motioned for his friend to stay back as he approached the statue. His first observation had been correct, it was dark. ¡°My god¡± he thought to himself as he inched closer. The small space seeming to close in around him with every step forward. Eugene now had a clear view of what was between the two V¡¯s. Two slim arms of stone shot out horizontally from each V about halfway up. The arms were holding something curious in place, a small black stone. No, not just black. To Eugene it more closely resembled a container of blood left to rot. It sat at a forty-five-degree angle, seemingly held in place by nothing. If Eugene had been in a joking mood, he would have said it was being held in place by magic, but there was no magic in Emberfell, only machines. ¡°What is it?¡± Eugene heard Mainin say from behind him, now coming to see what had so wholly captivated his friend. Eugene tried to find a response, tried to find something to say to his friend, but words escaped him. Finally, he said the only thing he could, ¡°I think we should call the captain.¡± Twenty minutes later, both men heard the hum of a small coal engine approaching them on the hastily laid track in the mine. Because Emberfell had depended on mining for so long, the miners had found themselves going deeper and deeper into the earth below them. It had become necessary for the miners to have quicker transportation than walking the narrow tunnels. The idea had come from an engineer at the Hall of Science. A small machine, powered by a small amount of coal, that powered wheels without the use of a hand crank. They had quickly become a common place in Emberfell, ¡°Motorized carriages¡± other kingdoms had called them, due to the engineers calling their invention a ¡°motor.¡± Eventually the other kingdoms slowly adopted the new technology, but not in the manner the citizens of Emberfell did. Eugene could see bright lights coming down the narrow tunnel, it was the captain! He watched as the small, motorized cart came to a stop just twenty paces from where Eugene and Mainin were still eyeing the stone. ¡°Gentlemen!¡± The captain spoke, approaching them. ¡°I was having the best game of Crumble of my life. This better be good.¡± Neither man spoke to their superior, they sat rooted in their spots, waiting for the man to join them, saying nothing. As the man approached, Eugene noticed something odd about the carvings on the stone statue; they were similar to the small medal the captain wore on his chest, just big enough to be noticeable. The captain approached, ¡°Well what-¡°He stopped when he saw what the men had found. ¡°Oh lads, you found it-¡°the captain spoke softly. Eugene could have sworn he saw a tear escape the captain''s usually hard expression. ¡°I¡¯m just sorry it has to end like this.¡± The captain said turning to the left to face the men. ¡°Sorry captain? What do you-¡° Mainin could not get the words out before a small knife had found its way into his forehead. The blade was half buried in the man''s skull. His body dropped before the final sparks of life had escaped his eyes. Eugene watched the scene unfold in horror, taking no more than five seconds before his friend was on the ground. The captain turned to him, reaching for another knife. Eugene looked for an exit, but the captain had placed himself between Eugene and the only means of escape, the tunnel opening. ¡°Captain, why?¡± Eugene yelled, trying to buy time as the captain slowly approached, knife in hand. Small flecks of blood had found their way onto the captain''s uniform. ¡°Eugene I¡¯m sorry, I really am. But if you only knew! If you only understood that you have saved Emberfell.¡± He started to close in again. Eugene began to backup, quickly finding himself against the stone wall. The cool smooth stone was comforting to him as fear poured from every pore of his body. Then in no time at all, he felt a stinging in his stomach. He looked down just in time to see the captain burry the entirety of a larger knife into his stomach and twist. Eugene''s vision began to go black as the immense pain began to spread, first from his stomach to his chest, then through his limbs. He did not feel himself sliding down the wall, but he soon found himself staring at the stomach of the captain, sitting, his vision becoming darker by the second. Eugene tried to move his arms, but the strain only caused a fresh globule of blood to escape his lips. He coughed, trying to dislodge the red phlegm from his throat. Eugene watched as the captain crouched down next to him, he expected the end. But instead, the captain sat down next to him. The captain reached for him, Eugene tried to flinch, expecting pain. But Eugene soon found himself embraced by the captain. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He spoke softly to Eugene, ¡°I¡¯m sorry lad, but you and your friend have saved Emberfell, I just regret that no one will be able to know it was you.¡± The captain retrieved a small bucket from the motorized cart he had rode in on. He systematically went to filling the bucket. First, he cut the wrist of the miner that he had taken down first. He did his best to get as much of the thick liquid into the bucket as possible. Then, just as systematically, he went about doing the same to Eugene. The captain felt no remorse. He had done what needed to be done, that¡¯s how he had made his way to captain. He knew this was greater than himself. He knew this was greater than Emberfell or Mephissa. With the small bucket now half full of the crimson liquid, the captain retrieved the small red stone from its resting place. He gingerly placed it into the bucket. Watching as it quickly disappeared below the small red waves. Three Months Later The Captain was awoken by a frantic knock on the metal door of his quarters. As he wiped the vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he reached for his pocket watch. Nowhere to be found, he gave up, reaching for his robe instead. The frantic knocking began again, each knock landing with more force than the last. ¡°Captain!¡± he heard from the opposite side of the door. ¡°I¡¯m coming! I¡¯m coming!¡± The Captain replied with a noticeable tinge of annoyance in his voice. ¡°What is it- ¡°the captain began to say as he opened the door; freezing when the realization hit. ¡°Caro, what is it?¡± The thin wiry man had ceased moving when the Captain had forcefully opened the door. His round spectacles, which usually served to hide the man¡¯s rat-like eyes, were missing. The Captain noticed the man¡¯s uniform was disheveled and stained, covered only by a dark leather apron. Drops of crimson liquid had formed a distinct pattern on the man''s wrists, where his gloves had ceased. ¡°Caro, what is it?¡± The Captain asked again, all hints of annoyance removed from his words. ¡°Captain, we did it!¡± The wiry man yelled. The Captain paused, mentally beginning a list of needed preparations. ¡°Keep this to yourself, go directly back to the lab. Wait for me there. Tell, no one yet, is that clear?¡± ¡°Yes sir!¡± The man shouted, saluting the Captain with a fist against the left side of his chest. The standard salute for the Emberfell military. The Captain abruptly closed his door and quickly began to dress in his uniform. He paused for a moment, only to stare back at the man he saw in the mirror. For the first time in longer than the Captain could remember, he looked at himself. His cropped grey hair atop his head, neatly trimmed to military regulations. The Captain then looked at his face. A sea of lines, wrinkles, and scars of war. The Captain raised his hand to the scar on his cheek. An enemy soldier had used a small iron dagger to carve half a smile into the right side of the Captain''s face. The Captain had laughed at a threat his captors had made. The Captain''s hand followed the raised flesh from the right of his mouth to his ear. ¡°Thirty winters.¡± He said aloud. ¡°Thirty winters and it still surprises me.¡± The Captain said to no one. The small flickering candle that had been illuminating the mirror for the Captain, suddenly went out. The tendrils of smoke; the last vestiges of life from the candle, followed the Captain out the door. It took only moments for the Captain to cross the small garrison. All around the hum of military activity could be heard. Soldiers passed, saluting the Captain as they went. The Captain cared for these men. They were here voluntarily, serving their kingdom. There was no compulsive service in Emberfell, no one forced to the front lines. But here they were, going about their duties, ready to die for their home and their prince, as was he. ¡°Soldier, your helmet strap.¡± The Captain had said to one soldier he passed. The leather strap had come away from the red and black helmet that sat atop the soldiers head. ¡°Yes Captain!¡± The soldier said, saluting. He then adjusted his helmet and the strap, looking back to the Captain for his approval. ¡°As you were.¡± The Captain said, smiling. The soldier smiled back at the Captain before quickly resuming the duty he was assigned. A few moments later the Captain came to an unsuspecting building in the corner of the garrison. A small sign hung above the door, it read ¡°Record Storage. To be locked at all times.¡± The Captain removed a small silver key from his cloak, inserting it into the iron padlock. The lock fell away, being caught by the Captain before it could hit the stone paved ground, bringing unwanted attention. The Captain turned the knob, slipping into the half-opened door. The Captain then found himself in a small room of floor to ceiling shelving. Yellowing bits of parchment, each in a different stage of decay, sat sprawled across every available surface. The Captain began walking to the back corner of the shack. The Captain stared at the stack of wooden crates and pulled. The crates pulled away as one, with ease. Where the crates had once stood, now revealed a small, winding, descending staircase. The grey stone slabs worn from the many times he had descended them. The Captain began the descent, careful to hold the wall as he made his way down the stone spiral. The Captain had become accustomed to the cramped space, feeling confident, he hurried himself until he had found himself in a small stone room, a burning torch on the wall for light. In the glow of the torch, a wooden door sat on the opposite wall, only mere paces away. Shadows danced as the Captain closed the distance between himself and the door. He grasped the doorknob, pausing for a moment. Finally, after a tired sigh, he opened the door. He was hit with the smell first. Always the smell. The metallic taste of iron hung in the air. Clinging to every breath the Captain took in. In front of him he saw Caro, standing over a shallow stone well. ¡°Captain¡± Caro said, saluting again, purely out of habit. The Captain stared back at Caro, finally saying ¡°show me,¡± devoid of any emotion. He would not let himself feel hope. He would not accept Caro¡¯s words until he saw it with his own eyes. Caro walked over to a small wooden table in the opposite end of the cramped space. The Captain noticed piles of parchment, inkwells, quills, and a knife. A simple blade tinted crimson red; due to the violence it had seen in the last three months. Caro turned around again, speaking to the Captain. ¡°As you are fully aware, the gem seems to act as some kind of prison. At your suggestion, we tried soaking it in human blood. We started to notice a change. With each new¡­. volunteer, the stone started to change. It transformed from the color of coal to the deep red you see now.¡± The Captain raised his hand, interrupting Caro, ¡°Yes yes, now what¡¯s changed? ¡°Captain¡­. the stone is cracking.¡± Caro said in a low whisper. The Captain stood with his mouth agape for a few seconds. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± He asked, unable to believe it. ¡°Yes, they appeared this morning.¡± While saying this, Caro retrieved a pair of leather gloves from a table beside the well. He nervously donned the gloves, careful to make sure they were covering every inch of skin, up to his elbow. Then, the wiry man with rat eyes, suddenly thrust his hands into the shallow well. After a moment, a smile of triumph crossed his face. Caro carefully lifted the stone to show the Captain. The Captain immediately noticed a few things. First, the stone had indeed changed in the months since his miners had discovered the underground vault. The second, was a longer vertical crack running from the very top of the stone to the bottom. Then, something else caught his eye, ¡°is the crack moving?¡± He asked Caro. ¡°From what I can tell, yes, it is. But the crack in the stone is not becoming larger, the imperfection itself is moving on the stone, when it moves to a different part, say from top to bottom, the top of the stone looks as if there had never been any damage. It really is fascinating.¡± ¡°I need to see the prince immediately. Keep going, your orders remain unchanged.¡± The Captain said to Caro with a tinge of military authority in his voice.¡± ¡°Yes sir!¡± Caro practically shouted at the Captain. Saluting with his gloved hand while the other cradled the stone. The Captain quickly turned and began to exit the small room through the way he had entered. Suddenly, he paused a moment before leaving, and spoke without facing the rat eyed man, ¡°Caro¡­. good job.¡± Chapter 3: Preparation is Key The events of the day did not leave Bayaal¡¯s mind, even as he slept. His dreams were dark and scattered. He caught only brief images. A stone, a carving, a woman. He tries to focus on the woman. He panics; he is alone in his own nightmare again. ¡°Bayaal wake up!¡± A voice cut through the darkness - Bayaal was abruptly awoken from his slumber. As he beckoned consciousness from whatever respite it received, a face came into view. It was his mother! Coming to, Bayaal now realized that his mother had a firm grasp on each of his arms. ¡°Mom?¡± Bayaal asked, more alert, but not quite awake. ¡°Hey kid,¡± his mother spoke softly. She was looking down on him, smiling. Her chestnut hair no longer pinned; it fell lazily around her shoulder. Bayaal sat up, fully awake now. He realized he had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace. A wooden chair as his only bed. His muscles screamed as he sat up and stretched, thankful to no longer be contorted to the wooden seat. As he slowly regained his senses from the slumber of sleep, the smell of coffee enticed his nostrils. Sayth noticed Bayaal longingly sniffing the air. ¡°Want a cup?¡± She asked with a smile, extending her hand towards her son. Bayaal accepted the warm mug and took one long drink, taking time to gather his thoughts. He wondered how to address the dragon in the room. ¡°It''s morning,¡± he said nonchalantly. ¡°Were you in council all night?¡± He raised his glass to take a second drink, trying his best not to seem like he was interrogating his mother. ¡°I was and there is much we need to talk about. But first I¡¯d like to talk about this metallic beast that ate you,¡± Sayth said in a playful, accusatory tone. ¡°Ah! Dammit old man!¡± Bayaal said in a half-asleep voice. Finally, Bayaal righted himself completely. He looked down at the brown liquid in his mug, watching small bubbles form and collapse against the edge of the vessel. Then, he let out a small sigh, ¡°It was strange,¡± he finally managed to say in the way a small child professes their fear to their parents. ¡°How so?¡± His mother asked, giving him the space to process what he needed to say. Bayaal, grateful for the time to collect his thoughts, thought for a moment. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. Finally, he spoke, ¡°It felt, almost, out of place here.¡± Bayaal paused again, unsure how to word what he was feeling. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± his mother spoke, breaking the silence. She leaned forward in her chair, pleasing her forearms on her knees and leaned towards the fire. She resumed in a serious tone, ¡°Things are changing Bayaal, I don¡¯t know fully what''s happening, but a storm is coming.¡± Bayaal now mirrored his mother''s posture, ¡°Is this about the diplomat from Specfield?¡± ¡°Yes and no. He did bring news, and an invitation.¡± His mother¡¯s flat tone did little to hide the troubles she too felt. ¡°The elders and I - ¡° Bayaal cut his mother off, ¡°Mother, you¡¯re an elder too.¡± ¡°Bah stop saying that, it makes me feel old. Anyway, the elders and I received an invitation for the entire village. There''s going to be a celebration in Specfield to mark the coming of the solstice. Invitations were sent out to every village, hamlet, city and back water.¡± Bayaal had many burning questions already. ¡°Why this solstice? They¡¯ve never done that before. Have they?¡± he asked, looking to his mother. ¡°No, not that I¡¯m aware of.¡± His mother replied ¡°So, same question, why now?¡± Bayaal countered, perhaps more aggressively than he meant. ¡°Bayaal I don¡¯t know.¡± His mother said to him in a tone that meant the subject was tabled for the moment. ¡°But there¡¯s going to be a meeting during the celebrations. Apparently I was requested by name. It''s directly with the high council.¡± ¡°You¡¯re ax,¡± Bayaal said, motioning towards his mother''s waist. ¡°No no, I don''t think it¡¯s anything like that. But it wouldn¡¯t hurt to bring it with us.¡± Sayth said, unsure of how much to tell her son. ¡°Wait us?¡± Bayaal asked, excitement rising within him. ¡°Yes us, as much as I hate it, I need you by my side. When meeting with the council it¡¯s important to present as strong and unified. So, you¡¯re coming too,¡± Sayth said in a tone that let Bayaal know this was not her first plan. ¡°When do we leave? The solstice is soon.¡± Bayaal asked, now wondering how quickly his day would descend into chaos. His mother smirked, ¡°Tomorrow.¡± ¡°Tomorrow? Are we taking the carriage?¡± Bayaal asked, unsure they could prepare the carriage in time to leave. Sayth laughed at this. Bayaal watched as his mother laughed with genuine humor. It had been so long since she allowed herself that reprieve. Holding the responsibility of the youngest elder was taking a toll on his mother. He noticed now, she had aged, not much, but Bayaal could tell. Her eyes held a tiredness he had not since since the passing of his father. Finally collecting herself, Sayth spoke with a hint of humor still in her tone. ¡°You and I will be riding ahead with the ambassador and the carriage team.¡± Bayaal stared for a moment, thought, and chose his next words with caution. ¡°Why are we going ahead with the ambassador, shouldn¡¯t the chief elder be going ahead?¡± Bayaal asked, prying further than he meant. For a moment, Sayth said nothing. Then a sudden seriousness was evident in her posture and facial features. Bayaal noticed this immediate change in his mother, he knew it well. His mother was about to share something with him that was troubling her. He braced himself, feeling the anxiety that now filled the room like the smoke of raging inferno. Sayth leaned forward and sat her elbows on her thighs, holding her hands together in front of her. At the same time she furrowed her brow, again deciding how much to share with her son. After a pause, she spoke. ¡°We¡¯re going to Spectfield for-.¡± She pauses a moment, and leans back in the chair, having decided to share everything with Bayaal. ¡°Five months ago, Emberfell cut off all communication with Spectfield and Daufim Hill. They¡¯ve recalled all of their ambassadors in every major village and city.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Bayaal opened his mouth, ready to interrupt with a question. Sayth raised her hand to cut him off, reading his mind. ¡°No, no one knows exactly why yet. The high council can only speculate, and unfortunately for us, they need to assemble all council members from every village for this.¡± Bayaal was starting to understand why they were leaving tomorrow. The High Council of Councils hasn¡¯t assembled in over two hundred winters. The last time they assembled was when a rogue warlock was raising armies of the undead in Lighttalonwood. Another event the elders had made sure to share with the children around the fire. Bayaal found himself momentarily distracted, lost in these thoughts. A log cracked in the fire, bringing Bayaal¡¯s focus back onto his mother. Sayth continued. ¡°The ambassador also shared the last message that was sent from Spectfield¡¯s informant in Emberfell before communication was ceased.¡± Sayth reached into the pocket of her tunic, retrieving a small parchment. She began to read from it. ¡°Discovery in Emberfell mine. Investigate Blood Stone.¡± Her voice trailed off with the last word. Its vocalization is like bitterness on the tongue. She offered the parchment to Bayaal. Bayaal hesitated for a moment, staring at the small parchment in his mother''s hand. The last two words stayed with him, ¡°Blood Stone,¡± he spoke softly. He slowly seized the parchment from his mother''s hand. He read it silently to himself, allowing his eyes to dance over every hurriedly scribbled word on the page. Finally, after a moment of contemplating, he asked his mother, ¡°What¡¯s the Blood Stone?¡± Sayth answered almost absent mindedly, ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± She placed her forearms back on her thighs, leaning forward, watching the embers of the hearth dancing against the stone. ¡°I know it¡¯s something to do with the gods, but that¡¯s it. The hope is the elders from Daufim Hill may be able to provide insight.¡± Bayaal thought for a moment. If the Blood Stone was some kind of religious artifact, the zealots of Daufim Hill would know. Sitting in their high towers, day in and day out. Reading all they could on magic and the gods. ¡°When do we leave?¡± Baykal asked his mother, leaning back in the chair, admiring the sparkling embers in the hearth. ¡± Tomorrow, at first light,¡± his mother replied. ¡°And bring something nice to wear please, this is still a celebration you know¡± she added as an afterthought, her face forcing a small smile. She was nervous, and Bayaal knew it. The way her eyes darted back and forth as she furrowed her brow, lost in an ocean of questions with no answers in sight. ¡°Have you ever been to Emberfell?¡± Bayaal asked his mother. Her brow softened, thankful for the change of subject. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. Most people in Specfield tend to stay away, but you know that.¡± The three kingdoms held a shaky alliance, everyone knew this. It was very rare for anyone to cross Emberfell borders. The clerics from Daufim Hill refused to go because there was no magic in Emberfell, their spells and incantations were just words there. Specfield townspeople grew up hearing the story of the Emberfell heathens who angered the gods, that¡¯s why they have abandoned them. Forced to work by flesh and machine, no magic to aid them. Bayaal shook the old tales from his mind and stood, offering an exaggerated stretch. With this Sayth stood also. For a moment they both looked at one another. Sayth spoke, ¡°Alright, like I said we leave tomorrow. Make sure you pack everything you need for the journey. ¡°I know, nice clothes, a ring for the king, I know the drill.¡± Bayaal teased his mother. ¡°Alright ¡®Mr. Prepared for anything,¡¯ we also need supplies from the store house. One sack of flour, a few jars of vegetables and a jar of fat. Go have Eaton set you up.¡± Then, Sayth did something Bayaal did not expect, she embraced him. Bayaal did not fight it. He enjoyed his mother''s embrace. He still found it comforting, as a scared child would. After a few moments they both released. Bayaal felt a new sense of calm in him. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll see you tonight. Remember what I need you to do.¡± Sayth yelled at Bayaal, already running out the door. ¡°The woman never stops.¡± Bayaal said aloud to himself. ¡°I think she knows more than she¡¯s letting on,¡± Bayaal spoke matter of factly to Eaton. He had quickly packed his belongings as his mother had asked. Careful to include his own ax. ¡°I don¡¯t think your mother would do that.¡± Eaton stated, never looking up from the parchment he was currently using to take stock of the village supplies. ¡°She would if she thought she was protecting me. I know her Eaton, there''s something she''s not sharing.¡± Bayaal said, with his brow furrowed, resting his head on his intertwined hands. Eaton paused for a moment, laying the parchment on the small wooden table in the middle of the storehouse. Sighing, he took a seat next to Bayaal. He shifted his body a few moments, obviously uncomfortable on the rough wood of the crates. ¡°She does want to protect you, but in this case, I think she shared everything she knows with you. These are strange times. I think she wouldn¡¯t want you to go ahead with her if she thought there was unknown danger waiting for you both. Maybe, maybe she just wants you to see the city and enjoy the celebration. Would that really be out of the ordinary?¡± Eaton paused, watching Bayaal mull over the advice he had just offered. Bayaal stood up and spoke without turning towards Eaton. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, I just have a feeling in my chest, it feels like Draedad is squeezing my chest.¡± ¡°Could it be a fear of the unknown?¡± Eaton asked, matter of factly. ¡°It could be. I guess you¡¯re right.¡± Bayaal said, allowing his shoulders to relax. ¡°I¡¯m scared, Eaton. Something¡¯s different, and I feel like we¡¯ll be walking right into it. But you¡¯re right. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d bring me with her if she thought it was going to be dangerous.¡± Eaton stood, placing his hand on Bayaal¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And that¡¯s okay.¡± Eaton said gently. Bayaals shoulders began to rise and fall, small tears streaking down his face. ¡°I¡¯m so scared, Eaton.¡± Then, before Bayaal knew what was happening, Eaton embraced him, pulling him close. Bayaal allowed himself to cry silently into the man¡¯s shoulder. What felt like minutes later, Bayaal pulled away from Eaton. His tears were no longer falling, but the telltale sign of sniffling could be heard outside the store house. ¡°Now-¡± Eaton said to Bayaal, raising a large sack to him. ¡°Bring this to your mother. Get some rest Bayaal, we have a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.¡± Bayaal stopped and cocked his head. ¡°You''re coming too?¡± Bayaal asked, a tinge of excitement present in his tone. Eaton smiled, ¡°Aye, your mother asked me to go early; to keep you company while she¡¯s attending to council business.¡± Bayaal smiled, quickly embracing Eaton again. ¡°Thanks Eaton.¡± He said, just above a whisper. Eaton smiled, relishing in the embrace. ¡°Alright, now go bring your mother the supplies.¡± Eaton said, winking as he did so. Bayaal spent the remainder of his day going to and from the carriage house. Preparing for the long journey that lay ahead. He had been honest when he had spoken to Eaton, he was scared. To Bayaal, something was off. ¡°Hey kid.¡± His mother suddenly spoke from behind him. Bayaal jumped, yelling. ¡°Mother!¡± Sayth laughed. ¡°Sorry, I was just coming to see if everything was ready, it¡¯s getting late.¡± Bayaal smiled, ¡°I think so. There''s food, my bag, your chest. And Eatons chest?¡± With the last question he turned to face his mother smiling in a teasing manner. Sayth laughed awkwardly. ¡°Did I not tell you I asked him to come along?¡± Bayaal smiled at his mother. ¡°No, but I¡¯m glad you asked him, honestly. ¡°Well, that makes me feel a lot better about asking him.¡± Sayth said, exhaling. Then a thought struck Bayaal, ¡°Wait, I thought we were riding in the steel carriage with the envoy? Why am I prepping the horse carriage?¡± Sayth laughed, ¡°Good question. The steel carriage is going to pull ours behind it. The envoy offered us a way there, not back. And I¡¯ve been meaning to make it to the city to purchase a new steed, but I just haven''t had time between council meetings and life. I figured we can kill two birds with one stone.¡± ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± Bayaal said to his mother. ¡°Well, I think the carriage is ready.¡± ¡°Great! Go to bed.¡± Sayth said in a way that only mothers could muster. ¡°All right, all right. I¡¯m going, I¡¯m going.¡± Bayaal said, adding his own tone of sarcasm to the conversation.